Passed Over

Bread and Wine

by Marie Thearose

Why should anyone die a sacrifice
when living blood flows in me
poured out and refreshed each moontide?

Why must I drain it from
the slit throats of turtle doves
to cleanse myself for
blood I could not help but spill?

No other fount I know
but my own.
And when this red snow
beneath my legs melts
water and blood
will nourish the earth.

Marie Thearose
Mother to her daughter, dogs, cats, words, and her own spirit, Marie Thearose is a poet and spiritual journeywoman. She works as a veterinary assistant, engages poetry, theology, and politics on Twitter and Instagram, but feels most at home in the forest.

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